


peppermint

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: togami and naegi masturbate over a skype call.





	

long distance relationships are hard.

some nights, _extremely_ hard.

"god, byakuya." he sighs against moon gleam's shadows. "i miss you like crazy."

before his legs of pure cream, bent each at a knee, the crackle of his laptop speaker says back, "i'm sure," and the haze in his eyes is a smoky midnight mist as he looks downward at the screen. "i'll be home soon."

"not soon enough." never soon enough, if not the very next second in which their breaths should mingle and touches exchange. the other'd have to be gone filmy blind to not notice the hue dusting his cheekbones. he gnaws a lip gently.

"makoto," he says, drives him absolutely _mad_ without even trying. "is there something troubling you?" 

"huh?" his pulse skips a pace, skips startle into his blood. "no, nothing's _troubling_ me...what makes you ask?"

the question is ignored. fireflies wink outside the window panes. "ah-" from the slightly pixelated view, his lover seems a handsome tint of tranquil. "so you're just horny, then."

thighs clamp together on instinct. the _hue_ blooms a full rosebush of color. to sputter refusal would be a waste of breath; they've claimed courtship prolonged enough to be each others' personal encyclopedias, reason as to how byakuya's been able to detect his mood at all, even cross two oceans and a dozen time zones.

"...yeah." and it needn't be said, but he's said it regardless, mouthed a shameful hushing aside it. byakuya laughs- cream to his coffee, throb to his crotch -and says back, "can you not satiate yourself properly in my absence?"

indigence kisses him. "i _can_. it's just not as fun."

"well-" and then it's incredulity, dubity, that sweeps him from his feet. "i _am_ here now. somewhat."

his knees tap once together. he scoffs a touch. "you mean like, phone sex?"

"interesting how quickly you jump to conclusions." his mortification strangles him. total smugness is byakuya's winsome smirk. "though, would it not be considered, what, _video chat sex_ , rather than phone?"

makoto thinks it'd just be considered _awkward_ more than anything. it almost doesn't seem worth it, but- _god_ , his boyfriend is the most handsome person he's ever _seen_...and, fuck it, his boxers are sliding down his ankles and kicking to the floor. when his thighs spread sundered, the screen displays the resulting expression of lusty thunder. he doesn't realize how long he spends admiring until-

"are you going to touch yourself, or am i just supposed to stare at you until i die of boredom?"

a grumble is his next voicing; breeze knocks against branches outside. beneath the door glows pale hall light. makoto breathes quiet into a slow shut of eyes, a slow grip of ( _cold_ ) hand around his length. his lips cast an apricot flavored tremble.

"this is weird." his eyes open to a flat look of exasperation's hind legs. "...you have to do it, too."

"it's eight thirty in the morning here," he says. it takes until eight thirty-five in the morning to convince him, and makoto grins at the sight of him leaning back to unbuckle the latch of his belt.

in the newfound confidence, he focuses again to the hand on his cock, relaxes his neck back into plush pillows. the first stroke, long and slow and salacious, is more experimental than anything. either way, his lips vibrate against a lengthy hum, skirting fingertips up the underside all the way to the tip and _shivering_.

enough composure's still there to grace himself a glance up; the other has yet to start, too mesmerized by the show before him. makoto smirks at the clouds in his smoky blue eyes, and with the lingering sight of his nude from the waist down, he returns to his personal euphoric dream.

"mmm, _fuck_ , byakuya." granted, he  _could_  withhold the moans so far, but he'd rather use his talents to coerce his suitor into pure fantasy. he squeezes at the center, then runs a palm all through milky precome to glide friction up the throb.

"i love you so much," he breathes once his skyline gaze catches movement on the screen. it's nearly enough to make him come then and there- taking in the view of his spread legs, hand guiding pleasure shocks up the length of that delectable cock. he's never been very vocal within bedroom's bounds, but makoto's fluent in decoding his expressions, and the one he now bears of attenuated eyes and spit-wet lips is pure bliss. for the both of them, honestly. makoto sweats in the chokehold of murk biting past lace curtains.

the speakers detect the sharp inhale on the opposite end, induced likely by the current's shift in position. fingers stroke strongly his aching erection, while his second set delve unto his tongue, then reach in a test of flexibility to prod his entrance. midnight contracts a haze throughout him. again, his lips bleed into a moan of his lover's name, the owner of it panting in sudden breathlessness.

_"makoto..."_ encourages him further, _deeper_ , pressing inside himself to the top knuckle before scissoring the two fingers. he neglects his cock a moment to play attentive, drawn back into rhythm by the drip of thick fluid down his digits.

he manages, somehow, to multitask even more. focus lands to the computer, and he's entirely shocked he doesn't unravel on instant. byakuya's just so _hot_ , with his thighs open and his eyes like ocean tides. imagination is a wonderful thing- he's able to fantasize that the fingers inching into him aren't fingers at all, but the heat of his boyfriend's erection breaking through his tightness. he  _groans_  quickening the speed of both hands simultaneously. a mantra is he, spilling that same, "oh, _fuck_ ," intonation as prior.

"you're so fucking sexy," urges his knees to tighter bend. "god, i wish i were there with you. i'd-" he's forced to pause as a shock bolts through him. "i'd fuck you so damn hard."

neither notice the filth to their vernacular increasing aside the closeness of orgasms, but the closeness of orgasms tend to cloud the mind well past noticing trivial things like a few extra swears here and there. makoto, deep enough now to curl them, arches into oncoming ecstasy. he keeps his eyes trained to the screen, enveloped fully into watching his strokes grow more desperate by the second. he stretches himself full, curls the knuckles another time, and it's just so impossible to deny the way byakuya lilts a thick, " _come for me_." his climax is the revival of all things good in the world, the knead of hands against his muscles and acupuncture done in all the perfect places. come gushes across the softness of his puppy tummy. his chest cries a ruined shallow.

then it's nothing but the fireflies and the glow beneath the door and the flush marring his face, and he really wishes he'd saved himself enough composure to watch his boyfriend's orgasm play out, because when he glances up again, it's to the readjustment of clothing and the preening of mussed blonde. still- that's been too fucking amazing an experience to even make the complaint. he sits up into a headrush lullaby, running hands along the sheets before allowing them near the device to drag it nearer to him. the fan on its underside whirs against his now crossed shins.

"you're really smart," he commends, and the idea's conjurer snorts derisive bemusement. "and hot. really, really hot."

cleaned fingers glide through his hair. "i know." and when he's professed love to another time, "i know that, too."

"good." too good for words. too good for him.

they've barely the vim left over to retain conversation; within minutes, makoto's spreading the contagion of yawns. he laughs at byakuya's attempt to suppress his own, out lets a most sated breath in moments that follow.

"the bed's too cold to sleep in alone," comes his murmur. it reminds him that he'll need to replace the top sheet before sleep is to be permitted at all. thinking about movement of any sort curls dread through his veins. but there's saccharine to suture his wounds, in byakuya's butterscotch voice that leaves him giddy.

"if it's any consolation, i'm not very keen on the idea either." his face seems closer, as if he's brought his computer into his lap; it spreads mirth onto makoto's lips, because he'd certainly like to be sitting in his lap right now, too. "next time i tell you i have a business trip to attend, try even harder to make me stay."

"of course."

he leans forward, post exchanged goodnights (and the awkward little dance of "or, good morning-?") to press a kiss to the monitor. the scoff in return bothers him none. his fingers stay in their poised waving even once he's, after winning a battle against reluctance, closed the computer to set it aside.

he relaxes into a sigh again, lifts himself to step ginger back into his boxer shorts. the top sheet strips, takes a rest in the bathroom hamper. and it's pure coincidence that, whilst in the closet to retrieve a fresh one, that the pullover he'd grabbed may or may not be of his personal ownership. the smell of the collar is a lull to his repose, though, so he stays wrapped within the soft fleece.

solitude's no acquaintance of his.

he thinks, at least, that spending his alone time with someone else makes it better withstandable.

thinks, too, that he'd like to drink the hot tea of mutual pleasure in much more frequent intervals.


End file.
